


beyond the archives (behind the camera)

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Season/Series 01, Shippy Gen, Streamer Tim Stoker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28288137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: “Welllll, you can always watch mine. It’s a hotchpotch of stuff, but,y’know.Always open to new viewers!”“Are you seriously promoting yourself?”“I’m a casual streamer. I neverstoppromoting myself.” Tim just grinned.Tim's hobby outside of the archives is streaming. He invites Jon to watch his broadcasts.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker, Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	beyond the archives (behind the camera)

Probably, the follow-up could have waited until Monday morning. But, strictly speaking, getting it done on Sunday would make final conclusions a lot easier when they were back in on Monday, and Jon was interested enough for it to be enticing. He’d texted Tim earlier on in the day about chatting up one of the relatives of a recent statement giver over the weekend; Tim had agreed and told him to bring over the file so he could browse. He’d be home all evening, he said. So here was Jon, shuffling on Tim’s doorstep, more than a little annoyed when he wouldn’t answer his door. All the lights were still on.

Right. If it wasn’t particularly sensitive information, he’d just leave it in the letterbox. But seeing as how he wasn’t _technically_ meant to be smuggling files home as it was… he gave a huff, fumbling his phone out of his pockets.

_You’re not answering your door._

Yes, he knew he could have called. It would have been quicker, easier. But he’d rather stand here and continue to look suspiciously out of place rather than do phone calls; he’d never been good at them. He _did_ have assistants for a reason.

But it didn’t matter. The response was almost immediate.

_Oh shit, hold on_

Oh shit, indeed. Jon puffed another sigh and started to reorganize the paperwork, ready to separate it out to Tim and explain what he needed to probe further about in general. God, he was really going to have to stop bringing statements home one day.

The lock turned. Tim unceremoniously yanked open the door. “Sorry, _sorry,_ I forgot you were coming.” He tugged at the headset settled around his neck, which Jon might have stared at a bit. He’d never considered Tim an audiophile, but those looked… expensive. Compared to the earbuds he always pointed to and mouthed _I can’t hear you_ when Jon tried to talk to him at work. “I’m doing a stream, they’re noise-cancelling,” Tim explained. “So I hear fuck all. Anyway! ‘sup, boss.”

“Homework is ‘up,’” Jon said, dragging his eyes away from those headphones. “I’ve brought the files for you to look over. The top is the statement, Martin’s research below. The other page is contact information for the person I’m hoping you can get some sense out of.” He held out the file.

“Cool, cool. Have I seen this one yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Brilliant, new stuff.” Tim thumbed through it without taking time to properly look. “I’ll give ‘em a call tomorrow. Cause it’s late.”

“And you’re busy,” Jon said, “evidently.”

“And I’m busy,” Tim agreed.

Right, he’d bite. “I didn’t know you did streaming.”

“Oh, I’m surprised you know what streaming _is.”_

Of course Tim wouldn’t know Jon had had a girlfriend much more technologically minded than he was, nevermind one that ran a fairly popular occult podcast. But he wasn’t inclined to share _that,_ in particular. “Yes, well,” he said instead, wry, “I don’t _exactly_ live under the rock you assume I do.”

“Aww, c’mon.” Tim tapped his shoulder. “I don’t assume anything. You know what they say–”

“Yes.”

“It makes an–”

_“Yes,_ Tim.”

He laughed. “A little surprised, though, yeah. You watch some?” Jon shook his head. “Welllll, you can always watch mine. It’s a hotchpotch of stuff, but, _y’know._ Always open to new viewers!”

“Are you seriously promoting yourself?”

“I’m a casual streamer. I never _stop_ promoting myself.” Tim just grinned, and then thumbed back towards the hall. “But I’m still on, just offline. If you actually want to talk work, I should probably end it for toni–”

“No.” Jon took a step back, shaking his head again. “No need. Like you said, it’s too late to call tonight anyway. Go back to your… stream. I’m going home.”

“Roger,” Tim replied, already hooking his fingers around the headset. “I’ll text you once I’ve found anything. Or not found anything. Who knows.”

“Right.”

“Night, boss.”

“Goodnight, Tim.”

  
  


“What’s it about?”

“Hmm?”

“Your… stream.” Maybe Jon was self-conscious now. The word sounded strange on his tongue, over their takeaway lunches. “Do you… er, playthroughs? Games?”

For his part, Tim looked like he’d forgotten he’d even mentioned it to him. But he bounced back quick, putting down his sandwich. “I mean, _sometimes?_ But I’ve got some friends that have bigger numbers, so I’ll usually end up going to someone else’s game than hosting my own? But sometimes.” He shrugged. “Otherwise, I _kind_ of just treat it as a podcast, actually, I guess.”

“And talk about…”

“Whatever. Like, movies or music or _spooky lore._ I had one day spending a good three hours bitching about work, actually.”

_“Tim.”_

“Oh, what? Are we just going to pretend we love _every_ aspect about _every_ part of our jobs?” He pointed at him with his fork. “Don’t pretend you don’t bitch about our job, boss. I’ve heard you do it on _tape.”_ He stuck out his tongue. “Least I have the decency to do it in my own home.”

“Yes, for all the world to see!”

“I’m _really_ flattered you think the whole world’s watching me,” Tim replied, and took a bite of– God, coleslaw. Revolting. And they wondered why he preferred to eat lunch at his own desk, nevermind the casual conversation. “I’d be lucky for a pinch of that. An _iota.”_

“Implying you don't have an iota of it already, then.” Right, he was curious. He wasn't going to explicitly _say_ he was curious, but... admittingly, he knew _very_ little about these sorts of things. He'd listened to Georgie record sometimes, sure. But the studio was usually off-limits, and Jon had long since stopped listening to What the Ghost? after the inevitable breakup. But he'd always been under the impression Georgie had had a following. She'd never complained, anyway.

“Well... not _really?_ I mean, last I checked I think I had around two thousand? followers–”

Jon startled. “And that's not a _lot?”_ He'd... yes, he’d expected a large number, Tim was _personable,_ friendly to a fault sometimes. But moreover: charismatic. Even Jon could see that. It was part of why he’d invited him down to the archives in the first place. But if two _thousand_ meant nothing–

“Sure, I guess,” Tim said. “It is. But that's not... hm, how do I put this. Following is easy. You just hit a button and, boink.” He mimed clicking a mouse. “But a lot of people follow for one thing, and then never come back, or follow and then don't watch at all.”

That... made sense. “So... viewers?” Jon guessed. 

“More important,” Tim agreed. “I usually get about a hundred and some, but it fluctuates. _And_ while viewers are good, short-term, concurrent viewers is what you really wanna track. Which is the number of people watching at the same time. So a hundred people might pass through in the three or so hours but you might only get ten or twenty at once."

“That... Christ.” It sounded complicated, if he was being honest. Stark indicators of why he didn’t involve himself in anything further than research or shopping on the web.

But Tim just laughed around a mouthful of pastrami. “Yeah, tell me about it. ‘s fun, though. I’m not trying to go pro or anything. I mean, basically speaking, the Institute _does_ pay the bills, so… it’s just for fun. Engaging with people. Doesn’t mean I don’t look at numbers but it’s definitely gotten a lot less daunting.”

“Huh.”

“It’s a lot more interesting than I make it sound, I _swear.”_

Jon thought he believed him, if only because he remembered how _excited_ Georgie had gotten over tidbits of information she had shared with him outside of her studio. That was… good, though, for Tim. They all deserved a bit of downtime outside of the Institute. He tried not to think about how he didn’t have any of that for himself. He didn’t mind bringing work home. Usually.

“You can ask Martin or Sasha, they watch.”

He looked up from his tea. “Really?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah! Sometimes. Martin does more than Sasha, but I mean, _she’s_ been on with me before, too.”

_“Really.”_

“Jon. Sasha’s actually _really_ nerdy. Like really nerdy. If Disney wouldn’t give us a C&D, we’d have a singalong on stream type of nerdy.”

What he was learning about his assistants… God, maybe Martin was right, maybe he ought to do after-work drinks with them sometime. Just… _social engagement._ Besides, he was their boss. He probably ought _not_ to be privy to their lives outside of work in the first place.

“… well,” he said at length, after taking the last drink of his tea. “This has been…”

“Illuminating?”

“Something like that,” he agreed.

“You’re welcome to be a guest, too, boss.” Tim grinned, a smile that could only be described as… devious. _“With_ the stipulation you have to at least watch _one_ before you can feature.”

Featuring in a live stream. _Not_ ideal in any world for him, he thought. “I think I’ll just stick to being on _tape,_ thanks,” he replied, and Tim just laughed.

“If you say so.”

  
  


God, if today’s cases weren’t simple ones. Fast to record and having been even faster to disprove; Jon was about to delve back into the pile he’d brought up, he swore he was. It was just… tiresome, today. And no, he did not dilly-dally on work, _at_ work, usually, thank you very much, but… he sighed, exiting out of the latest sale section of the weekly advert he’d been staring at on his laptop. Useless emails. Time wasting window shopping.

Today was one of _those_ days.

Not that it made much difference. He’d still have to finish off the work he’d set aside for today, regardless of the time it took him to discredit the statements. Any distractions were just cutting into his own time, and opportunity to go home earlier than usual.

But who was he kidding? He knew he wasn’t going to do that, either.

He looked up at the closed door, certain the other three were doing better than him. Maybe. Or maybe they were just _all_ online shopping, bored to death of asinine entries and useless research. For some reason, Jon wondered if this was the kind of stuff Tim complained about on his stream.

… and then he couldn’t help it, fingers itching until he pulled up a new tab to type into his search bar.

_Timothy Stoker livestream_

Not that Tim would be live _now,_ and honestly, Jon didn’t _expect_ anything to really come up off of such a generic search term, but, well, he _honestly_ shouldn’t have been surprised with the top result being Instagram. Of course it was Instagram, wasn’t it? And he could probably type in anyone’s name here, any of his co-workers, and get their Instagrams, too, but it didn’t mean he _wanted_ to. Work life private life divide.

_Yes,_ he knew the hypocrisy in looking for Tim’s stream while waiting to stay _professional,_ but he’d already _invited_ him to watch. And the link was four results down. Jon only hesitated a moment before tapping the trackpad. It wasn’t a breach of privacy if he’d been invited to watch in the first place.

He didn’t know what he was looking for, really. But he was almost pleasantly surprised to find that there were past broadcasts saved, ranging one hour to four, and Tim, looking chipper in each of them. More or less. Not so much in one in particular highlight, a clip of a past broadcast, glaringly titled _Misogyny in the workplace, even in_ before the character limit was cut off. Jon frowned, made certain his laptop was muted, and clicked into it.

It turned out the whole of it was _Misogyny in the workplace, even in THE ARCHIVES,_ which Jon personally felt was too much damning information to put out in the public regarding personal information, but probably more _importantly,_ it seemed to be a small part of a much larger rant on… on Sasha not getting the Archivist job, apparently. If the captions were right, which Jon believed they were. There weren’t _names_ named, but a chat interaction might have… solidified it, a bit.

**NonexistentialCrisisAverted:** You don’t have to get mad for me, Tim.  
**Tim:** I know  
**NonexistantialCrisisAverted:** But thanks :)  
**Tim:** :)

Christ, _had_ he taken the job out from under Sasha? He hadn’t _meant_ to– it wasn’t like it had been his fault in the first place, even, Elias had approached _him_ and he hadn’t particularly known Sasha that well prior to moving downstairs– ah, but this was moot. And not fair to either him _or_ Sasha, now. And also a shining example of why work and personal shouldn’t _mix–_

“Knock, knock.” Two proper knocks to accompany the words and Sasha popped her head in. 

Jon hastily closed the tab. “Sasha, yes, hello.”

“I just wanted to let you know that…” she trailed off, frowning. “Okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

Bugger all. “Like what?”

“Like you took the last donut from the break room.” She braced her hand against the doorframe, looking a little closer. “You okay?”

“I– yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, sorry. Just a… slow day, I suppose.”

“Yeah, you tell me.” She huffed. “But anyway, Ms Christie’s place of employment said that they’ll email over her records? And I gave them your email, since you’re the one waiting, so you can probably expect that sometime soon. Hope that’s fine.”

“Yes. That’s– that’s good, Sasha. Thank you.”

“Yep. Let me know if it’s ~spooky.”

“God, you’re starting to sound like Tim.”

“Our work _is_ spooky, Jon, it’s a fundamental part of–”

“Yes, _yes,”_ Jon interrupted. “I know.”

She mimed out demon horns with her fingers, and grinned. “‘We’re all mad here.’” Jon rolled his eyes, and she continued, “but I’ll leave you to it. Talk later.”

“Sasha–” He couldn’t help himself. He had never been good at impulse control. This was _exactly_ why he didn’t need personal details. Exactly why!

She stopped on her way back out, looking around again. “Yeah?”

“Er–” In for a penny, though. “You… if I can ask, where did you… where did you see yourself, at this point in your life?”

Her reaction looked properly _miffed,_ which was an appropriate response to the _where did you see yourself in this stage of your life_ question. Such a stupid, stupid question. Her eyebrows drew together a little, and she drew out the syllable in “ummmm,” as she replied. “I mean, here, I guess? I’ve never thought about it, much.”

“As an assistant?”

“Well. No. Not necessarily–”

“As Head Archivist?”

“Not… _necessarily.”_ And now she was frowning again. “Why? Are you _quitting?”_ she demanded, expression pinched. 

“No,” Jon said quickly. “No, I’m– I– I just thought– you were here, longer than me. I wondered if… if maybe you’d wanted. To be the Archivist.”

“I mean, I guess it did cross my mind a bit,” Sasha admitted, “but honestly, Jon? Seeing all of this now? I’m _not_ envious of your position. If that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m–” _not,_ but he supposed he was. He just felt… _misogynistic,_ he supposed. Male dominance in the workforce. Christ. He shoved his glasses up his forehead to rub at his face. “Sorry, Sasha. Morbid curiosity.”

“And _that_ tired look right there is _exactly_ why I’m not jealous.” She was teasing, Jon could tell, but the little overlay of worry felt a mixture of both warming and undeserved. “You need to rest more. I’ll have Martin bring you a cuppa, ‘kay?”

“That’s really not necessary.”

“And _I_ say it is, and as your assistant, I’m sorry, but you contractually have to listen to me.”

Jon raised his eyebrows, frames falling haphazard back to the bridge of his nose.

Sasha just laughed, waving her hand in dismissal. “I’ll send him over, Jon. Try to take it easy, alright?”

“I…” He couldn’t pursue this. She’d get more suspicious than she already was, and she already was if she was sending _Martin_ in. “Yes. I’ll try. Thank you, Sasha.”

“Sure thing, boss man.” She winked playfully on her way out.

Jon decided– again– to stay out of his employee’s personal lives.

  
  


Sleepless nights. Jon hated them. Particularly when he _was_ actually tired, but unable to shut down and had nothing to do in the interim. He’d learned dives into the deep web weren’t _really_ great things to do if you wanted to sleep at all, so browsing his phone was not a good idea. And yet, here he was, still thumbing lethargically across the screen, checking appointments, reminders, and the odd bookmark he kept up on sites with extensive paranormal research. Latter of which being… _not_ exactly great to fall asleep to, either. Christ.

He had an idea, then; it was still a bad one, but maybe not as bad as deep dives or occult occurrences. Overstepping personal boundaries– sure. But it wasn’t like he was _stalking_ Tim or anything, he thought, tapping the same search term in from a few days prior, and clicking into Tim’s streaming page. He’d regret this tomorrow. 

_After_ he’d had some sleep.

For now, he just tapped on the latest video at the top of Tim’s recent broadcasts, and resigned himself to latent guilt after the fact.

_“Good afternoon, everyone!”_ Tim’s voice burst from the speakers and Jon nearly jolted off the sofa, fumbling to press the volume down. _“Welcome back to the stream. Or welcome_ to _the stream,”_ Tim-on-video continued. _“If you don’t know me, hey! I’m Tim. Welcome in. This is a sort of stream, sort of podcast, sort of_ thing _? So if that’s_ your _thing, you’re_ definitely _in the right place. But let’s be honest. We’re all_ kind of _always looking for things, right. So you found it! Well done.”_

… oh, he was like this at home, too, then. His enthusiasm was making Jon even more tired just listening, just the opening, but it was also… kind of nice, in its way. Familiar, at the very least.

Slightly _less_ familiar to have Tim’s voice in his sitting room, but… Jon squinted through the dark towards the table, where his earbuds didn’t seem to be. Finding them was a forlorn hope, and he really didn’t want to move. So he just nudged the volume down another tick, deciding the sound wasn’t any worse than some of the other… suspect noises he heard through the walls of this flat at night. This was tame, in all regards.

_“Right. So, um, last week, we were talking about…”_ Tim’s eyes veered off left, and then he perked up, grinning a little more… relaxed, Jon guessed. Not for the camera like a moment ago. _“Yeah! This hoodie– oooh, you want a product placement? I can give a product placement. It’s an indie seller online, yeah? And I really–”_ He shifted the camera, leaning back in the chair to show off the whole front of his sweatshirt. _“– have thought about getting one for a long time, and did, last cheque. But look, it’s really nice and– listen, I’m not gonna pretend I don’t support big chain corporations, I do, they get my business, I live in London, for Christ’s sake. But, if you_ can, _definitely support your local, independent shops, or the small businesses that you’ve got online. It really helps out.”_ A pause. _“Oh, fuck off, Sasha, I’m_ not _pandering to get subs. God, you all see what I’ve got to put up with? Do your best friends treat you like this?”_ he asked to the camera, but he was grinning.

Only just then, Jon realized the words popping up at the side was a _chat,_ and not adverts like he’d thought. It must have been live at some point, because if he looked closely, yes, Sasha’s username in the box. And a row of the ‘rolling on the floor’ emojis following it.

_“That being said,”_ Tim continued, _“if anyone_ does _wanna get a sub, I won’t say_ no _or anything.”_ It was ridiculous, and Jon still found himself rolling his eyes at the resulting fingerguns into the camera.

… he was good at this, Jon had to admit. Some people were just like that. It wasn’t a surprise Tim was. In his element here, joking with his viewers. More… casual than Jon thought he ever saw him at work, unkempt hair and oversized hoodies. A little less sarcastic, but then, maybe that wit at work was just how Tim _dealt_ with the kinds of things they saw there. Jon… didn’t really know him well enough to know for sure. He didn’t know any of them well enough to know for sure.

This might have been a start, Jon thought groggily. The closest he was probably going to get, for what it was worth.

He shuffled down more comfortably on the couch, and settled in to watch for a while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd say this isn't entirely inspired by Mike's streams but then, we all know I'd be lying (I've been thinking of this idea for awhile but RQGG really kicked me into gear for writing it) it's gonna be a couple chapters of mostly aimless fluff that's semi-JonTim feelsy so! if that's your pajamajam, stick around 👈👈
> 
> also I know nothing about streaming or how it works so I'm taking creative liberties don't look at me please


End file.
